


all at once

by cadyjanis



Series: mean girls [4]
Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Coming Out, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Happy Ending, Identity Issues, Nonbinary Cady Heron, Nonbinary Character, Post-Canon, Some Humor, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadyjanis/pseuds/cadyjanis
Summary: “do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, and cady just sits there, staring at the mini pride flag in the cup on his desk. she gets that concrete, weighed-down feeling again.it’s either minutes or years before she says, voice barely above a whisper, “damian, i think there’s something wrong with me.”—how cady discovers a new part of herself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [damianhubbard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damianhubbard/gifts).



> this was a spontaneous little project i started after discussing the concept of nonbinary cady with my dear grayson, who had a huge part in keeping me motivated to finish! i hope you guys like it.
> 
> trigger warnings will be applicable in the next chapters, proceed with caution my loves!

Cady doesn’t feel right. And she can’t put her finger on why.

 

Janis is coming over, and she’s nervous. But that’s not it, she knows it isn’t. It can’t be. They’re fine, they talked on the phone last night like they always do. Today, however, Cady feels sick at the thought of seeing her girlfriend while she’s like this. Because Janis knows when she’s not okay, and Cady is reluctant to put this on her.

 

It’d be easier to understand if she’d had a weird dream or something. But she just feels off, like she didn’t wake up all the way, her brain not having gotten the memo that it’s daytime now.

 

So she sits on her front porch step, tapping her sneaker against the next, biting her nails. The polish is chipping anyway, and she thinks about how her Plastic self would rather die than let anything damage her nails.

 

She fights the urge to gag, feeling like that person in her mind’s eye is a completely different human being. She can’t believe she ever used to _be_ like that.

 

Remembering that only makes her feel worse, so that’s great. She folds her arms so she won’t continuously remind herself by chewing her nail, and rocks against the breeze. It’s August, and warm still, but her body feels cold.

 

Her heart rate rises while her stomach plummets when a familiar red truck rounds the corner. It usually fills her with immense joy to see Janis coming towards her house. It’s like she plans to break up with Janis or something equally awful. She’s not, of course, but there’s this aura of dread hanging around her like a storm cloud that hasn’t yet made up its mind.

 

She tries to just take a deep breath. That’s Gretchen’s go-to method for when things are piling up inside her. She started going to therapy for her anxiety this summer and shared her tips with Cady, which are now coming in handy.

 

Cady forces her legs to hold her up as Janis cuts the engine and pops her door open. Instantly that big stupid dopey smile spreads across her face when she sees Cady, and Cady will never stop wondering why. Cady hasn’t quite forgiven herself for what happened.

 

Janis played her part in it, too, but Cady still made choices she regrets. The fact Janis wanted her even after everything just doesn’t make sense to Cady. Not that she isn’t grateful—she’d be miserable without her, even just as friends. She just feels like there’s this debt she has to pay, and she’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to her.

 

“Hey,” Janis calls, not even bothering to lock her truck because this is the safest, most boring neighborhood in Evanston. Cady fixes a smile and waves, trying to swallow all her feelings before Janis can see her face up close.

 

She meets her halfway, rising onto her toes to kiss her. “Missed you,” she says, touching the hem of Janis’s jacket, rubbing the denim between her thumb and forefinger.

 

“You just saw me yesterday,” Janis teases, tucking Cady’s hair behind her ear. Cady shrugs. There are no limits to how much she can miss her girlfriend even if Janis has been gone all of five minutes.

 

“You wanna go for a walk or something?” Janis asks, and Cady nods, wasting no time to link their fingers together. Janis stuffs her keys in her shorts pocket and they head off down the sidewalk in companionable silence.

 

That’s what Cady loves about Janis, she doesn’t feel the need to fill every second with words. Cady thinks it means more when you can just be quiet with your person.

 

Okay, this isn’t as bad as she anticipated. They make it to the end of the block without Janis mentioning how quiet she is. Usually Cady has _something_ to say.

 

It’s like there’s words, words in another language she doesn’t know, swirling around inside her. She wants to talk, but she’s afraid she’ll say those words instead of the words she’s supposed to say. And that only makes sense to her.

 

“Cady.” Janis nudges her. She realizes they’ve stopped walking. “Look, a dog.” She points to the golden retriever laying in the open bed of a truck while its owner vacuums the inside. Janis waves to the dog, looking like she just won the lottery at the mere sight. She loves any dog.

 

When Cady takes longer than expected to also wave at the dog, Janis notices. “You okay?” she asks softly, the question Cady didn’t want to be asked.

 

“Yeah,” Cady lies, the answer she didn’t want to give.

 

She continues walking, tugging Janis along. She can feel herself starting to panic. She doesn’t want Janis to know. She doesn’t want Janis to have to deal with this when she can’t even deal with it. She doesn’t even know _what_ it is she’s dealing with. But she’s fine—Cady is fine. She’s not sick, she’s pretty sure. It’s just one of those days. It happens. She’s fine.

 

Except she’s had _one of those days_ before and none of them involved feeling like a stranger in her own body. That’s the worst part, that she can’t identify what it is she’s feeling, like she’s locked out of her own home.

 

“You look like you’re about to cry,” Janis remarks, and Cady does then, against her will, just like everything else she’s done or felt today. Janis is quick to wrap her arms around her, her default motion when Cady gets upset. Cady hides her face in Janis’s chest, closing her eyes tight, just wishing she could go back to bed and sleep until she’s normal again.

 

“Did something happen?” Janis murmurs into her hair, one hand cradling the back of her head as the other holds her tightly. Cady is too weak to resist comfort, so she accepts it.

 

She shakes her head, unsure what to say. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Janis,” she admits, and Janis squeezes her.

 

“Let’s just go home, okay?” she suggests, and Cady nods. “I know it’s still summer but I can make you hot chocolate. If you want.”

 

Cady coughs a wet laugh, swiping self-consciously at her eyes, unable to resist the tempting offer. “Okay.”

 

Janis hugs her shoulder and they go back the way they came, their hands intertwined again by the time they reach the front door. Cady then remembers her mom is home.

 

“Shit.” She wasn’t crying a lot, but doesn’t want her mom to see her red-rimmed eyes or traces of tears on her face, so she dries it with her shirt. Typically Janis would take this opportunity to poke her in the belly, but she exhibits amazing self-control.

 

Once Janis assures her that her mom probably won’t notice, they go inside. Mrs. Heron is at the kitchen table on her computer surrounded by folders and papers, but gets up to greet Janis when the girls enter the room. Even now, Cady feels a burst of joy and appreciation that her mom and dad are accepting. When they were informed that Cady and Janis’s relationship status had bumped up from mere friendship to dating, they barely batted an eyelash. Her mom then asked when Janis was coming over for dinner.

 

So, at least there’s that, and they don’t have to handle skirting around her parents right now—it would be far too much for Cady.

 

“Extra marshmallows, right?” Janis asks over her shoulder as she goes to retrieve the cocoa mix, always in stock at the Heron house simply because it’s Cady’s comfort drink.

 

“With cinnamon,” Cady adds, sighing. “Can you bring it up?”

 

“Sure,” Janis says, opening a cabinet, and Cady touches her mom’s shoulder before heading for the stairs. She wouldn’t leave if she knew being alone with her mom would be weird for her girlfriend, but everybody gets along enough that it’s not awkward anymore.

 

In her room, Cady grabs a cardigan because it’s cold up here, and curls up on her bed with her phone, checking all the texts she doesn’t have. She’s gotten lost in scrolling through cat videos on Instagram when Janis walks in with her cocoa, which gives her another happy little boost as she sits up to take it.

 

“Thank you,” she says, tilting her chin up for a kiss, and Janis obliges. She takes a seat next to her, a hand on Cady’s knee, as Cady pops a marshmallow into her mouth. Of course hot cocoa is always better when your girlfriend makes it for you.

 

Honestly, everything is better and more tolerable with Janis around. Cady is now glad she is.

 

“Sorry,” she still feels compelled to say, the mug warming her hands.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Janis replies gently, tapping her nose with a fingertip. She lays back, sprawling on the bed with her legs dangling over the edge. She’s so tall and long. Makes Cady feel like a dwarf from the Wizard of Oz.

 

“How can I help?” Janis inquires after a thoughtful, cocoa-sipping moment.

 

Cady shrugs. “Don’t know,” she says, suddenly very tired. She sighs heavily. “I don’t feel like me today and it’s freaking me out. I was fine yesterday.”

 

Janis frowns. “Hm. Well, can you describe what you feel like now?”

 

Cady has this itchy feeling on her arms and legs, but it’s all in her head—just like everything else she’s feeling today, apparently. “Just… I don’t know, Janis, that’s the problem.”

 

“Okay.” She’s not going to push it. “Well. Um.” She thinks for a minute, staring up at the ceiling. She’s sweet to try and come up with a solution, but unless she is a licensed psychologist Cady doesn’t believe there’s much hope.

 

“It’s not a big deal,” she insists, eating more marshmallows. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Janis pouts, rolling onto her side so she can prop her head up. “I want to make it fine right now. So you don’t have to wait.”

 

Cady smiles wistfully. They both hate when they can’t fix each other’s sadness, but sometimes it’s fruitless, and all they can do is just be there.

 

“You already got me cocoa,” Cady reminds her. “So. I’m good.”

 

Janis sighs, stroking Cady’s calf with her nails. “If you want me to leave, I can.”

 

Cady nearly chokes on her drink. “Why would I?”

 

“If you just wanna be alone, I mean,” Janis clarifies. “If that’s what you need.”

 

Shaking her head, Cady sets her mug down on her nightstand and crawls to Janis, taking her face between her hands and kissing her twice. “No,” she whispers against her lips. “I don’t think I wanna be alone.” Her voice wavers, just a tad. She didn’t realize how much she wanted Janis here until now, the thought of being alone rippling through her like unwanted memories.

 

“Okay,” Janis says again. “Then I’ll stay.”

 

Cady nods. If she doesn’t have herself, at least she has Janis.

 

That will have to be enough for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for the love on the first chapter! hope you enjoy the rest.
>
>> **trigger warnings:**   
>  gender dysphoria   
>  transphobia

“Damian, can I ask you a question? About…being trans.”

 

Cady bites her lip, wincing at the slip in his hand as he goes to put away a clean shirt. He looks at her, perched at the edge of his bed with her hands folded in her lap.

 

“Sure,” he says after the briefest of pauses.

 

“Not like—anything invasive,” Cady assures him quickly, even though he already knows how much she loves and respects him and would never.

 

He laughs. “Caddy. Just ask. You know how much I love talking about myself.”

 

Well, that’s true. She snickers, gathering up her courage. “Um. Well. I’m just wondering, really, how you sort of…started figuring out you weren’t…that you’re not cis.”

 

The word, even though it applies to her, sounds so clumsy in her mouth. And she winces again, feeling like she said it wrong. But Damian merely makes a sound of interest at the question, and shuts his dresser drawer before coming to sit beside her.

 

“ _Well_ ,” he says, hands on his thighs, giving this short breathy sigh. “I was nine or ten when I started to not feel…” He searches for the right explanation. “I mean, I never really _felt_ like a girl, even though my mom was…raising me that way…it sort of was this weird detachment from it. Like I was a girl but I also wasn’t. I knew other people saw me as a little girl but when I thought about myself or looked in the mirror it just didn’t seem right.”

 

He thinks again, then says, “It was like…I had this body, and I didn’t get a say in it, but I was getting older and felt like I should have more of a say in how I looked. I was eleven when I cut off all my hair. Once I saw myself with short hair, it felt really good. I can’t explain it. Just, like, a really intense feeling of… _Yes._

 

“And my mom wasn’t even mad. I got scared then and was so afraid she was gonna beat my ass, but she came home and saw me and…” His eyes glass over a little. “Well, she sort of looked at me for a minute, then reached out and ran her fingers through it. She said I’d done a shit job and asked if I wanted her to clean it up.”

 

Cady smiles, glad to hear that his mother was accepting from the beginning.

 

“So.” Damian sniffs, looking down at his hands. “She did. And she made it look presentable. I felt even better. She didn’t ask why I did it, I think she sort of just knew. Not that I was a boy but that I wasn’t just a girl going through a phase, like a tomboy. It was something else.”

 

Cady nods, hugging his arm. “When did you tell her?”

 

“Around a year later… With puberty looming on the horizon I was sorta panicked,” he says. “I turned twelve and just started feeling like time was running out. By then I’d kinda pieced it all together in my head. I wore ‘boy’ clothes and kept my hair short. Every time I looked in the mirror I would smile instead of wonder what was missing. I think my mom figured it out already, but she was waiting for me to tell her, and I did… The night of my birthday I was crying my eyes out because I didn’t wanna get older just yet. Like, full on panicking.”

 

He gets quiet, remembering. “Once I calmed down I just said, ‘Mom, I’m not a girl. And I need more time.’ Time to do what, I didn’t know, I just needed it.”

 

His voice is thick, but Cady knows he’d tell her if it was too much. He’s just a feely person.

 

“So she just held me and said, y’know, that it was okay and she’d help me,” he continues. “She was super confused and scared, too, but didn’t wanna show it.”

 

The question of _what about your dad?_ is on the tip of Cady’s tongue, but she’ll bite it back. That is the one subject neither she or Janis can prompt without him bringing it up. And honestly, she doesn’t know much, just that he’s been gone a long time and Damian doesn’t talk to him much anymore. Her gut twists with realization.

 

“So. Anyway.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. That’s how she found out. And after that she did what she could to understand how I felt. We did research together and stuff. She even took me to this therapist who specialized in gender identity things, and talking to her helped a lot. I was too young to start anything, but we covered the basics of what to expect, and I was so happy.”

 

Then he presses his right thumb into the palm of his left hand, a nervous tic. There’s a pause before he says, “My dad wasn’t, though.”

 

Cady is quick to put her other hand on the arm she’s already hugging. “Damian, you don’t—”

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s part of my tragic backstory.”

 

“No, I know, but if it’s too painful for you—”

 

“Caddy, it’ll always hurt.” He looks down at her, eyes sad but not resentful towards her. He pats her hand on his elbow and kisses her forehead. “So. Anywho. My parents divorced before I even started questioning things, and my dad was the one who thought it was a tomboy phase. So we didn’t tell him I saw that therapist or what was really going on. I didn’t think he’d hurt me or whatever, I loved him still, but he—you know, he didn’t get it.

 

“One day he flat out asked my mom what was wrong with me. They were on the phone and I heard him say, ‘Nancy, what’s wrong with our daughter? Why do you let her go around looking like that?’” He sighs heavily, rolling his eyes. “So that was super fun to overhear.”

 

Cady wants to throw up. She can’t imagine lacking that much empathy for your own child.

 

“I still don’t know what she told him, because I ran off after that,” he continues softly. “But things changed for me and him. I was afraid to be around him. He’d keep his comments to himself, but knowing he thought I was sick or whatever just didn’t make me feel good about myself, and I was having a hard enough time at school and stuff. So I told my mom I didn’t want to see him anymore, not unless he learned.

 

“But he isn’t the type who learns and lets go, y’know? He clings to his views and nothing would change his mind. So.” He sighs again. “There was a whole custody thing and I had to testify in court that I didn’t wanna be around him and I was consciously making that choice, and while they didn’t really get who I was, my lawyer managed to convince them my dad was a threat to my physical and mental health at that time.” He snorts. “He still is.”

 

Jesus Christ. Cady hasn’t ever heard that part.

 

“Anyway, after that, I didn’t have to see him anymore, which was a relief,” Damian says. “He’s tried reaching out and stuff, but he’s said directly to me that he thinks I’m confused and my mom is doing this on purpose to make him mad…” He waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever. I was happy when he left. He gave up eventually and he moved somewhere out west.”

 

He smiles suddenly, then laughs. “It’s funny, because you’d think a guy like him, so tough and masculine, would be thrilled to discover he had a son instead. But I guess the way he obtained a son wasn’t good enough.”

 

Cady hugs him again, blinking back tears. “You’re really brave, Damian.”

 

He hums. “And I didn’t even get into the figuring out I’m gay part, oh my God…” He grins. “But you know that already, little slice. Boop.” Like Janis, he taps her on the nose.

 

Cady’s head is spinning. He doesn’t have to tell her how his peers at school treated him, but discovering just how hurtful and unsympathetic his father was is heartbreaking. She feels a rush of gratitude for his mother, and her own parents for how they love her.

 

“But _anyway_.” He turns to her, looking inquisitive. “You asked about something specific and I went off, I apologize. I did warn you, though.”

 

She shakes her head. “No, yeah. Thanks for telling me.”

 

“Sure.” He searches her face for something she doesn’t even know is there. “You asked when I started to feel different. So that’s when, and how. Any other questions, my child?”

 

She huffs a laugh. She isn’t sure why she asked in the first place. Janis doesn’t know she’s here, for Cady asked him in private if she could come over and hang out, something they rarely do, just the two of them. They’re both either flanked by Janis, unable to have one without the other. And it’s not that Cady wants to deliberately exclude her, she just felt like spending time with him by herself.

 

“Erm. No,” she tells him, because it’s true. If she has any other questions, at least now she knows she can ask since the hard stuff has already been discussed.

 

There’s a thoughtful pause on both their parts, then he nudges her and says, half seriously, half teasingly, “Why, do you feel different?”

 

She’s shaking her head without making the conscious decision to do so. “No,” she says swiftly, but can’t look at him, suddenly ashamed for some reason. “I was just curious.”

 

It’s a random thing to be curious about, but he seems to sense she’s still a little off, and won’t push it. Cady had hoped she’d feel normal again, but it’s been a few days and each one since she has woken up still feeling unsettled and foreign.

 

But talking to Damian helped. He always finds some way to keep her feet on the ground.

 

As she’s leaving later that evening, he says to her at the door, “Y’know you can talk to me about stuff. Stuff you might not wanna tell Janis, if you think it’ll worry her.”

 

Jesus, he knows her so well. “It wouldn’t worry you?” she counters, grinning playfully.

 

“Sweetie,” and he puts both hands on her prim shoulders, “of course it would. I just do a better job at consoling people without making it about me.”

 

It’s a lighthearted jab at Janis, but a thrill of realization thrums through Cady, and she can’t exactly argue. Janis is short-tempered and immediately jumps into protective girlfriend mode when sometimes all Cady needs is what she was like the other day: tender and gentle, without turning Cady’s feelings into something Janis needed to fix to feel good about herself.

 

Janis is selfless most of the time, and has never guilted Cady for whatever it is she’s feeling. But Damian makes a valid point, and he’s right. He can be sad or angry for the people he cares about, but his first instinct is to hug and soothe, not go off on a tirade.

 

“I’m teasing. You know I love her.” He pats Cady’s cheek, and she nods. “But, yeah? You’ll talk to me if you want to?”

 

“Yeah.” She gives him one last hug, never growing tired of his teddy bear exterior. “I will.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here have some angst!

Cady is afraid to go back to school. It doesn’t start for another three weeks, but she’s terrified. She knows most people probably don’t hate her anymore, but that’s not where the anxiety stems from. Because it’s been a week since _the feeling_ started, and she’s still not better.

 

It’s like she’s getting over being sick but can’t shake it quite yet. And it frustrates her that she still has no clue why it started. She’s had a really good summer, and she doesn’t want it to end while she feels like this.

 

It’s more than just being depressed that it’s over. She’s actually looking forward to school—she views it as a clean slate of sorts, a full year where she’s genuinely just herself, and is happy she gets to go into it with Janis and Damian already by her side.

 

So it’s not that. She knows it’s not about summer ending. This is nothing she’s ever felt before. And she’s running in desperate circles trying to figure it out.

 

She knows she could go to Damian. But it’s not about that, she’s positive it isn’t. And yet in her head she keeps picturing herself talking to him more than to Janis, and that just makes it worse because shouldn’t Cady be going to her girlfriend first? Something about working it out with Damian just sounds easier.

 

Like whatever this is, Janis couldn’t understand. And that frightens Cady to her core, makes her feel abnormal, like she’s not Janis’s girlfriend at all.

 

Eight days ago she was a totally different person. And now she’s someone entirely new without a warning, like she was smacked upside the head and a setting in her brain got jammed.

 

She’s having trouble sleeping. Eats in the morning but forgets about lunch and finds herself in the kitchen at two AM scarfing down Cheez-Its. And she completely avoids her reflection in the mirror, increasingly freaked out by the haunted look in her eyes. Her parents don’t notice because she does a good job at playing pretend—after all, she wasn’t herself for half a year, so she has practice. But Janis and Damian do, even if they don’t mention it. Even when Cady is laughing at Janis’s dogs, or a meme Damian sent her.

 

They can feel it, too. Which is the opposite of what she wanted to happen, but just like last week, maybe it’s supposed to.

 

Janis calls her one night as per their routine, and Cady actually groans when she sees the call coming through. But she answers it, because she’d be stupid not to. “Hi.”

 

“Hiii,” Janis says, using her dumb high voice. “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” Cady replies around a yawn. “Just about to sleep. You?”

 

“Meh. I’m bored. Can I come over and make out with your cute face for an hour then fall asleep on top of you? Great, thanks.”

 

Cady laughs, and at least that’s genuine. “Mmm. You can make out with me tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that…”

 

Janis hums suggestively. “Nice. So I’ll be at your house eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning to commence the day’s make-out session?”

 

She’s joking, but the thought of her seeing Cady so early when she’s still a goblin in pajamas is more unappealing than it usually is, and Cady makes a face at her ceiling. She has to ask, just to make sure Janis won’t do that, because she wouldn’t put it past her, “For real?”

 

“No, I’m kidding,” Janis assures her, and her tone is funny. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Cady bites her suddenly wobbling lip. She hasn’t cried yet over anything, and is certainly not going to break down at this hour. “Just tired.”

 

A pause as Janis tries to analyze her voice. “Okay,” she says eventually. “Well, I’ll let you go to bed, then. Um. I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Cady murmurs, never so anxious to get off the phone in her life. Janis makes it easier on her and ends it there, and Cady angrily tosses her phone in the drawer and turns the lamp off. She clutches her stuffed lion as she rolls over, hot tears spilling onto her pillowcase, but she swallows the rest, refusing to cry.

 

She wishes it was as easy to open up as it is to close herself off.

 

* * *

 

A couple days later, Cady’s parents go out for date night, and Janis invites herself over. Cady is popping popcorn when the front door opens, Janis using the spare key Cady now regrets ever giving to her.

 

“Oh, hello,” Cady drawls, taking the bag out of the microwave and dumping it in a bowl, shaking it before carefully pouring the popcorn into it instead. Janis stands in the kitchen entry watching her, picking up on the tension loud and clear.

 

Cady just wanted to watch this movie Gretchen has been begging her to see. God.

 

“Pardon the intrusion, but I haven’t seen you in two days,” Janis deadpans as Cady skirts past her with the bowl and a soda.

 

 _Take a hint,_ Cady wants to say, but knows she’ll regret it. “Yeah. Sorry.” She flops onto the couch and turns the TV on to search for the recording.

 

Janis sighs and takes off her boots, coming to join her. She gets comfortable and Cady glares at her until she goes, “What?”

 

“Sure, Janis, go right ahead,” Cady mutters, resigned to her fate now.

 

Janis’s jaw drops, but she shouldn’t be so shocked given the fact she barged in here uninvited. Not every space needs her to occupy it, and Janis takes up a lot of space.

 

“I just wanted to see you,” she murmurs, and Cady rolls her eyes.

 

She puts the popcorn and remote down on the coffee table and turns to her heatedly. “Then you should’ve asked if I wanted to FaceTime or something. You can’t just waltz into my fucking house, Janis.”

 

She rarely curses, and it slips out. But the venom in her voice stings Janis more, and she sits up, looking equal parts hurt and alarmed.

 

“Well, sorry, but you weren’t answering my texts, I got worried,” Janis tells her, and it occurs to Cady she doesn’t even know where her phone is. She’s kind of been drifting through the weekend without it, not possessing the energy to hold a conversation.

 

She feels very tired then, and drops her head into her hands, unable to hold it up. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, chest constricting.

 

Janis inches closer, tentatively putting a hand on her back. “Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

 

Cady inhales deeply, and though it hurts, she can do it. “Yeah.”

 

“Cady, sit up. C’mere.” Realizing this is more serious than just Cady being a little snippy, Janis grows gentle, coaxing Cady upright and ultimately into her arms, shushing her when she starts to cry. Cady still resists the urge to let it all out, but cries as much as she can until she feels the tiniest bit better.

 

She hides her tear-streaked face in Janis’s neck, clinging to her like she never has before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” she sniffles apologetically.

 

Janis rubs her back, hugging her close. “I know, it’s okay. I’m sorry I just showed up.”

 

Abandoning the movie and popcorn in favor of allowing her girlfriend to provide some semblance of comfort, Cady stays where she is, barely able to lift her head. She feels so heavy, like she’s made of concrete.

 

She didn’t realize how much she missed Janis until now, and feels guilty for snapping at her. If she were in Janis’s shoes, she’d be really worried, too. It’s not like either of them to just ignore texts and calls. But Cady’s sort of been swimming through the past couple days, trying to keep her head above water. But with Janis here, she tries to reconcile not doing it alone.

 

It just feels like too big a burden for her own self to bear; why make Janis carry it? Though Cady might not have much of a choice now that it’s so dangerously heavy.

 

“Please talk to me,” Janis murmurs, nails stroking Cady’s arm, and Cady closes her eyes. She doesn’t have the words or the knowledge to explain—she can’t tell her anything if she herself has no idea what this is.

 

“It just hurts, Janis,” Cady attempts, and Janis squeezes her like hearing that pains her, too. “It won’t go away. I don’t feel like me anymore.”

 

That sums it up well enough.

 

Janis sighs, cheek on Cady’s forehead. “God, Caddy… What can I do?” She sounds like she’s trying not to cry herself, just as confused and helpless as Cady is.

 

Cady shrugs, but climbs onto Janis’s lap, kissing her way along her jaw to her lips, not entirely sure what it is she’s doing but aching for a distraction of some sort. Janis is taken aback at first, not having expected Cady to be up for this, but kisses her back tenderly, making up for two days’ worth of kisses.

 

Everything still feels wrong and Cady barely feels present enough to do more than just sit here and make out with her, but she needs this—needs something that’ll make her feel alive, even just for tonight, for the next five minutes.

 

Janis nips her bottom lip and Cady groans softly, desperate for those usual butterflies to make their appearance. But her already foggy head makes for an uncooperative body, apparently.

 

It’s not going to stop her from trying, though, so she lays down on the couch, Janis taking her default spot on top of her. They kiss deep but lazy, warm bodies pressed together even over their clothes, Cady’s fingers in Janis’s hair. It’s how it’s supposed to be, everything except how it feels. Usually there’s eagerness and shirts would be on the floor by now. Cady wouldn’t have to fight herself to feel something.

 

“Fuck,” she gasps, but it’s not because Janis just found that spot under her right ear. Janis pulls back, picking up on the dissatisfaction, but knows it’s not her fault.

 

“Nothing?” she says, and Cady shakes her head. Janis sighs and kisses her cheek innocently, then they both sit back up. Cady just feels gross now, like she did something wrong.

 

“You should go home,” she mumbles after a pause, watching the logo on the television screen bounce aimlessly.

 

Janis goes to protest, likely hurt again, then remembers this isn’t really about her at all. “If that’s what you want,” she whispers, acting like it’s fine, like she’s not disappointed she can’t help.

 

“Yeah. I think I’m just gonna go to bed, honestly.” Cady yawns, genuinely exhausted. She turns to her girlfriend, who is fiddling with a piece of Cady’s hair, and leans back against the couch with her to kiss the corner of her jaw. “I’m sorry.”

 

Janis shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry, love. Are you sure you wanna be alone?”

 

“Well. Nothing helps anyway, so. Don’t wanna keep you here.”

 

Janis pouts a little, and Cady hates the disconnect they’re feeling. Because Cady doesn’t feel like herself, whatever she normally feels for Janis is askew and not how it should be.

 

Cady wants that back, though. She wants herself back. She doesn’t know much longer she can go on like this.

 

Janis is reluctant to leave, but respects Cady’s wishes. They hug for a long time at the door, a million and one apologies in a single embrace.

 

“Get some sleep, okay?” Janis implores, cupping her small face between her hands.

 

Cady nods, standing on her toes for one more kiss. “Let me know when you get home.”

 

Cady stands on the porch and waves to Janis before she pulls away from the curb, and is in tears again before she’s closed the front door behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > **trigger warnings:**   
>  gender dysphoria

Cady texts with Janis the next morning as she’s walking to Damian’s house, for he’d invited her over for breakfast. (Janis confided in him last night and asked him to keep an eye on Cady while the two of them are in “emotional limbo.”) She tells Janis what she’s up to today and that she’ll try to call her tonight. Janis says no pressure, she loves her, and to be safe. She might often jump the gun, but right now she’s trying to give Cady space.

 

Damian’s house is cozy and warm and smells like French toast when she lets herself in. She can hear the aging radio playing in the kitchen as his mom cooks, and Damian is setting the table as Cady enters the kitchen.

 

“Hellooo,” he sings, waving a placemat at her. She can’t help but smile. His joy is infectious.

 

“Hi, sweetie!” his mother, Nancy, calls over her shoulder, and Cady goes to kiss her cheek on her way to the sink to wash her hands.

 

As always, she asks if she can help, and as always, they tell her to just sit down. But she feels bad for not contributing somehow, so she feeds their cat, Wallace.

 

Nancy makes the best French toast, and of course Damian piles on the powdered sugar. The ground balances out beneath Cady’s feet for a bit as they eat together, and for a short while she forgets she doesn’t currently feel like a human person. The French toast makes her belly warm and leaves sweetness on her tongue; those are real things she can feel and taste. She’s alive for this.

 

After, she insists on helping with the dishes, so Damian hands them to her so she can put them in the dishwasher while his mother cleans the table. Wallace perches on the edge of the kitchen counter and watches everybody shrewdly, like he knows something they don’t.

 

If he knows why Cady feels this way, she’d very much appreciate the info.

 

She follows Damian upstairs to his room, listening to him chatter about some new musical he just discovered. Cady’s eyes aren’t usually drawn to the flag above his bed, but today she looks at it like she’s seeing it for the first time, and he keeps talking without realizing his one-person audience is no longer listening.

 

Cady has always admired how proud Damian is of himself, how confident he is. He’d never let anyone tell him who to be or how to act—he knew at twelve that his father was a danger to him so he made the decision to cut him out of his life. A kid shouldn’t have to do that, especially not a transgender child, but it was really mature of him. And he doesn’t let people at school pick on him. They can accept it or kiss his ass.

 

That isn’t to say he doesn’t have days where he’s insecure and sad. But he does a good job at staying positive, and he seems content with himself right now.

 

He deserves to be, after everything he told her. Nothing is perfect, but he’s happy today.

 

There’s a magnet board on the wall above his desk, where he’s pinned show tickets and understudy slips, mini Polaroids framing the edges. His Playbills are strung across the wall, nearly wrapping around the room. He’s been to New York a few times, usually for his birthday, or has seen shows when they came on tour here; shows he hasn’t seen, people have bought him Playbills for. Janis got him a signed _Kinky Boots_ one for Christmas last year.

 

Cady really freaking loves Damian’s room.

 

“So, little slice,” Damian is saying, delicately patting the spot next to him on his bed. “I can see you are troubled. Come sit and tell Mama Damian everything.”

 

Cady rolls her eyes, but willingly joins him on his bed, heaving a sigh. He puts his arm around her like a big brother would.

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, and Cady just sits there, staring at the mini pride flag in the cup on his desk. She gets that concrete, weighed-down feeling again.

 

It’s either minutes or years before she says, voice barely above a whisper, “Damian, I think there’s something wrong with me.”

 

He puts his hand on the back of her head, then twirls a random curl around his finger. “What makes you say that, darling?”

 

“I think you know,” Cady mutters, staring at that damn flag so she won’t cry.

 

“I don’t,” he says innocently. “I mean, I know you haven’t been yourself lately. Why do you feel like something’s wrong with you? How do you feel in general?”

 

“Just…not like me,” Cady murmurs. “Like someone else is piloting my body. Like I got kicked out and I’m just watching myself walk around and do stuff. I don’t feel like I’m inside myself.”

 

Any other day he’d cackle at her choice of words, but he’s not laughing now. “Okay. Do you know how it started, or what triggered it?”

 

Cady chews her lip, trying to think back to when it began. Damian says helpfully, “Like, what did you do the day before?” which clarifies her muddled train of thought.

 

“Um… I hung out with Janis,” she reminisces, now looking at the ceiling. “We got ice cream… Played Mario Kart in her basement. We made out. The usual.”

 

He snorts. “Right. What did you do when you got home?”

 

“She dropped me off around nine,” Cady continues. “I had dinner at her place, so I skipped… I took a shower and texted with her while I was on my computer.”

 

“What’d you do on it?”

 

“Nothing raunchy,” she quickly reassures, and he gives her this look, and she relaxes. “I was just importing pictures to clear up space on my phone, really. I organized everything into little folders, you know how I am.”

 

He nods. “Oh, yes. Pictures of what?”

 

“Like, just stuff from this past year that I don’t need on my phone anymore,” she tells him, biting her nail. She’d forgotten she did that, but it seems important now given it happened the day before everything went to shit. “Um. Just pictures of us. Of Janis. Gretchen, Karen…”

 

Herself. She almost was tempted to delete her Plastic selfies, genuinely disgusted at the visual reminder, but held on to them for some reason.

 

“Me,” she adds reluctantly. “There were pics from when I was a Plastic. And not a Plastic.”

 

“How’d you feel seeing them? All of them.”

 

“Weird,” Cady confesses. “Like, I can’t believe that was me. And I can’t believe how I look now is me. I mean, I like how I look now a lot more, I don’t…have a problem with it.” She looks down at her tank top and shorts combo. “It’s just weird seeing myself.”

 

“Yeah.” Damian nods his understanding. “Do you feel like… When you looked at those photos, or just when you see yourself in the mirror lately, is there anything you would change?”

 

Cady thinks for a minute. “Not really. I like my body, I guess. I just really don’t like how I looked as a Plastic. That kinda upset me.”

 

“Aside from the obvious, was there a specific reason?”

 

“I guess just remembering how much time I’d spend in the mornings getting ready,” she says. “I would get up forty-five minutes early just to curl my hair and do my makeup. And it was so dumb. I mean, if other people do that, that’s fine, but for me I’m so relieved I don’t have to anymore. It was so much work. And I do still sorta wear makeup, just a little, but… I don’t know. I guess femininity was so much work, and I was actually really miserable like that. I just couldn’t do anything about it, so I acted like I enjoyed it. I convinced myself being a girly-girl is fun when for me it honestly wasn’t. I couldn’t wait to wear jeans again.”

 

She runs a hand through her hair, sighing, tired just from rehashing her Plastic days. “That girl wasn’t me. And looking back, I wasn’t as happy as I thought I was, being a Plastic. Something about it made me feel weird but I shoved it down so it wouldn’t interfere with everything.”

 

He nudges her. “Sorry about that.”

 

She shakes her head. “I made choices, too.”

 

There’s a pause as that settles, then Damian asks, “So, you wouldn’t wanna dress up now?”

 

“I mean, I still have all my old clothes,” Cady admits. “They’re in the back of my closet. But I let Gretchen and Karen have most of my makeup. And my shoes. So, no, I don’t think I would. I’d wear a skirt if I had to, but…” Even that makes her grimace.

 

Damian looks at her for a moment before saying, “When you think about yourself now, how do you see yourself in your head? You’re not a girly-girl anymore, but do you still feel ‘like a girl?’” He does air quotes.

 

Cady doesn’t quite understand, so he explains. “Like, obviously nobody has to do anything to be or feel like a girl, that’s something only they know. But you’ve been raised as a girl, correct?”

 

She nods, half-shrugging. “I mean, yeah, my parents call me their daughter and stuff. I didn’t grow up in a place with strict gender roles, though, so maybe that’s why I…” She trails off, because even so it’s like that’s only one piece of this strange puzzle.

 

She looks sharply at Damian then. “Oh, wait, you think—not that it’s wrong, obviously, but oh, no, Damian, I’m not—”

 

“I didn’t say you were,” he interrupts gently. “You don’t have to be trans to feel like this.”

 

“Feel like what?” Cady whispers nervously.

 

“Cady, everything you’ve said reminds me of when I was a kid,” Damian tells her. “About feeling like someone else is piloting your body, like you’re not who you are. And the fact you’ve been kinda sad and isolated lately, because this is surely really weird and confusing… I get it. A lot. I think what you’re feeling is gender dysphoria.”

 

She stares at him incomprehensibly. That hangs in the air for a long, thick moment, the gears in her head at an utter halt.

 

His expression is careful but sympathetic, understanding the shock of such a sentence.

 

When she doesn’t respond, he continues softly, “Dysphoria can make you depressed. And from what you told me, I think you’ve been feeling it for a while, especially when you were a Plastic.”

 

He lets that settle, but even though she nods, she’s trying not to float to the ceiling. Hearing that made her body go from solid to empty in a split second.

 

Slowly—or it just seems slow to her currently struggling brain—Damian gets up and quietly shuts his bedroom door, then comes back to sit beside her, arm around her again. “Caddy?” he says, and he sounds the slightest bit concerned. “Say something, sweets.”

 

Cady doesn’t know _what_ to say. Now she kind of feels like she’s dissociating, and at this point doesn’t expect to be brought back to earth anytime soon.

 

“I know it’s scary,” Damian says gently. “But I promise it’s just temporary. If this means what I think it does, you’ll figure it out, and you’ll feel like you again. I won’t lie, you might still have days where this happens. But once you know why, it’ll be easier to deal with. And like I said, you don’t have to be trans like me to feel it. There’s lots of ways to be trans, it’s sort of an umbrella. It’s not just binary trans men and women.”

 

“What else is there?” Cady asks, feeling like there’s a rock caught in her throat.

 

“There’s lots of stuff, like… Well, here.” He grabs his phone and taps into his bookmarks, and hands it to her after pulling up a page that has a comprehensive list of trans identities.

 

He points stuff out one by one, but it falls on deaf ears. He doesn’t get too excited, simply going through it just so she knows what he’s alluding to. There’s various pride flags and labels. She is totally overwhelmed.

 

He realizes this when she still doesn’t say anything, and takes his phone back. She hides her face in her hands, wishing she could fall unconscious at her will.

 

“I’m not saying you’re not cis,” he tells her, letting her hide. “But what you’ve described seems pretty intense, and as someone who has felt like that, that’s what I’m assuming. But, hey.” And he touches her wrists now, coaxing her hands away so she’ll look at him. “Like I said, only you can know this about yourself. Do some research when you’re ready. If you’re looking for answers, I’d start here. You understand?”

 

She nods. She wants to cry, but now there are no tears. There’s just emptiness, and shock. It seems so obvious now, something she should’ve considered weeks ago. Asking Damian about his transition suddenly makes sense to her, and doesn’t know why she didn’t realize it sooner.

 

“But—one more thing,” he says, and waits for her to make eye contact. “Whatever it is, if it turns out there’s some truth to this, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

 

Her first instinct is to protest. And she has no clue where that comes from.

 

“I know it sucks right now. Believe me, I know.” His voice catches a little. “But it isn’t bad, even if it feels that way right now. Once you figure it out, if indeed this is what it is, you’ll feel better. I swear. And you’ve got me, okay? I can help.”

 

He deliberately doesn’t say _and Janis, too_ for obvious reasons, and that’s probably the most alienating part, and that rock in her throat settles like a boulder in her stomach.

 

“Just be patient with yourself,” Damian adds. “These things take time. And you don’t have to have it all figured out right away. But I think just looking into it and more about what gender dysphoria is will help. And if it doesn’t? There’s still an answer.”

 

His endless optimism will never fail to amaze Cady. But she nods, and scoots closer to hug him like he deserves to be, and he holds her gently but firmly, like she’s made of glass.

 

Oddly enough, as much as she’s felt like she’s falling apart, for a minute, right now, in his room, she sort of feels like she’s being held together. Not permanently, not even with glue; just being hugged is enough. Like that first day with Janis, it has to be.

 

Damian walks her home later that afternoon, once he’s sure she’ll be okay on her own. He still asks if she’s going to see Janis sometime today, and she says probably not. She has to get to work, after all. Janis can’t be around for that.

 

Damian gives Cady another long hug on her porch, and makes her promise to call or text him if she needs anything, linking their pinky fingers when she says yes.

 

Her mom asks how it went when she comes inside, and for a moment Cady isn’t sure what to say. She genuinely does feel much lighter now that she knows there’s options, even if she’s not entirely confident they’ll amount to anything.

 

“Good,” she says, toeing off her flip flops at the bottom of the stairs before going up. She’s kind of eager to get to her computer. Today, finally, she starts to feel sort of alive again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many tears were shed for this one
>
>> **trigger warnings:**   
>  gender dysphoria

By the end of the day, there’s peace. Not a lot, but enough for her to climb into bed and talk on the phone with Janis without it feeling weird or forced. She just wants to get a good night’s sleep in case it all unravels again tomorrow.

 

She had Damian send her that list so she could actually look through it, pointedly using private mode on her web browser. She did her own searches and read a few Wikipedia articles, now having a better grasp of what gender dysphoria is. She relates to a lot of it in a way that’s more than just her being a typical depressed teen, mourning the end of summer.

 

She’s terrified, of course. She knows for a fact she wouldn’t prefer to be masculine or look like a boy; she told Damian she’s content with her body itself, and that’s true. It’s how she once had to present that bothers her. And he made a great point in saying this has probably been going on for months. The more she thinks about it, as she lays there trying to fall asleep, the more that makes perfect sense.

 

In the morning, she scrolls through stuff on her phone, instantly having questions she needs answers to the moment she wakes up. Underneath the fear, though, there is hope—hope that maybe, despite what this will mean for her future, she can feel normal again.

 

A new kind of normal. The more she learns about stuff, the deeper she connects to it. She puts in her earbuds to watch a few informative videos, nearly brought to tears by how much sense things make when explained by another person who gets it.

 

She concludes _nonbinary_ seems to fit best, but is reluctant to label herself just yet. Before she gets overwhelmed, she puts her phone away, realizing it’s now noon and she still has to eat.

 

She has cereal and toast, starving from her lack of an actual functioning appetite. Her head is spinning with everything she’s learned, but at least it’s _working._ She feels sort of in between right now, halfway normal and halfway a disaster.

 

But halfway normal is more than she could’ve asked for after the last few weeks, so it’s fine.

 

Cady invites Damian over later that afternoon, and he comes up to her room. “Sooo?” he says, shutting the door. “Did you do it?”

 

Meaning has she been delving into an ocean of information all day. Cady laughs, and he seems happy to hear the sound. “Yeah. It’s…a lot.”

 

He nods, laying down on her bed the same way Janis does. “I know. You okay?”

 

She sighs, flopping down beside him. “I guess so. Better than I have been. Um, I think I have an idea of…what it is. Like, I’m pretty sure it’s…what you said. Gender dysphoria.”

 

She feels weird saying it out loud, but it’s true. He makes an encouraging noise, so she says, “I looked at so much stuff. It’s actually kind of hard to differentiate between things because some of it is so similar…”

 

“Yeah. Don’t let that phase you.” He waves a hand. “Please continue. Did anything stand out to you at all?”

 

“Ummm…sort of,” she admits, heart racing even though she was prepared to tell him first. Janis gets further away from this equation every day.

 

“I think maybe… I don’t know. Nonbinary kinda fit,” she tells him, shrugging. “Out of everything, I like that the most. And thinking about how I felt growing up…I still kinda feel that way. Like, my parents raised me as a girl, but not like… Y’know, things just were different in Kenya, they were too focused on their work to stuff their daughter in dresses and tell her being one with nature isn’t ladylike.”

 

Damian cracks up, and so does she. “So. For years I didn’t have that ‘normal’ relationship with being a girl that people here do,” she continues after. “And even now that I live here, I don’t. You were right about me being a Plastic. I really hated it. It didn’t feel like me. That person in those pictures isn’t me, not even just not a personality level, like that _wasn’t me_ and I didn’t feel like me in more ways than one. And I guess that got me feeling it again.”

 

He pats her arm. “Yeah. I understand.”

 

She sighs. “All my life, I haven’t felt like a girl, I just didn’t know that it could’ve actually meant something,” she murmurs. “So I guess that’s it. I don’t…wanna be a girl. But I don’t wanna be a guy either. No offense.”

 

He snorts. “Sweetie, please. It’s fine. Is it like you sorta fall in between?”

 

She chews her lip, contemplating that. “Sort of? Like, I’m kinda a girl. Or, like, I was assigned that at birth—that’s correct? Okay—and I like my body the way it is, but I’m kinda just…neutral. So, yeah, in between. Not entirely a girl but not entirely a guy, either. Just, like…a person. I’m just a person who happens to kinda ‘look’ like a girl. But I’m cool with that, I guess.”

 

Talking it out and explaining it helps solidify it in a way, as scary as it is.

 

“But I don’t have to change?” she asks quietly. “I don’t have to…look different to be nonbinary?”

 

He puts a hand on her face. “Honey. Of course not. If you like how you look, you don’t have to change it for anybody. Liking how you present is different than questioning your gender as a whole. I mean, you can do whatever you want. But I think you’d be happier if you didn’t dress like a Plastic ever again. That wouldn’t help.”

 

She shakes her head in agreement. “No. Because I don’t want people to think I’m a girl. Even though, y’know, anyone can look feminine. But most people don’t really understand that.”

 

She sighs and drags her hands down her face. “God. I’m kinda mad it took me so long to figure it out. Could’ve spared me a lot of…this.”

 

“Don’t be mad,” he says gently. “It happened when it was supposed to, I think.”

 

“I just don’t know what this means,” she muses, suddenly wanting to cry. “Like, for me. How do I just go about my life knowing this about myself? Like, it’s so weird. Gender is weird. Nobody prepared me for it. I literally just woke up one day and my body went ‘have some dysphoria.’”

 

He laughs once. “That’s how it is for a lot of people. It just happens. But there’s a reason for it, obviously. Seeing your Plastic pictures brought it on.”

 

Cady sighs again, rubbing her eyes. “I’ve always known that I liked girls, too. All my life I’ve had crushes on both guys and girls. It just would’ve been nice to know I’m not cisgender, too.”

 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, love. You just weren’t ready to deal with it when you were younger,” he points out. “Dealing with dysphoria when you’re a kid is another experience, and I’m glad it spared you.”

 

She smiles weakly. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

“How do you feel about your name and your pronouns?” he asks, and it occurs to her she hadn’t really given that much thought.

 

“Um. I like my name,” she admits honestly. “I don’t think I’ll change it. Because I’m Caddy. Cady. That’s me. Being referred to as a ‘she’ doesn’t really bother me… I know that probably sounds weird—”

 

“Not at all,” he assures her quickly. “You don’t need neutral pronouns to be nonbinary, either. Pronouns are just descriptors, and people get to choose how they want to be referred to. They can mean something on an individual basis, but you don’t need one set of pronouns to be a ‘real’ nonbinary person. It’s literally just what you’re comfortable with.”

 

That makes her feel better. The things she read about pronouns weren’t as clear. “Okay. But I kinda want people to know I’m…nonbinary,” she fumbles self-consciously, but he pretends not to notice. “I mean—I don’t, because I’m not ready for that, but between you and Janis… If you sometimes called me she that’s fine, and if you called me ‘they’ that’s fine, too.”

 

“Noted.” He taps her on the nose. “You just don’t wanna be called or thought of as a girl?”

 

“Right.” She nods. “But the ‘she’ part is just how it’s always been, and for now it’s okay. I don’t know. Could that change one day?”

 

“Absolutely,” Damian says. “Go by what you wanna go by right now. And if it changes one day and you realize you don’t wanna be referred to as a she anymore, then that’s that, and we’ll respect it. But right now you’re okay with these things.”

 

It’s all just _so much._ It’s like her brain can’t process it, even though Cady now knows this is what’s been going on with her.

 

It’s like a train, and rather than jump off the tracks she’s frozen in place, and it slams into her. She’s crying without even realizing she was about to, meaning no time to fight it until Damian leaves. Weeks’ worth of tears and frustration come to the surface, and she finally breaks down, relieved and happy and terrified and still a little confused, all at once.

 

Damian sits up and takes her into his arms. “Okay, little slice, it’s okay,” he soothes, rocking her slightly as she sobs.

 

“God, Damian,” she croaks, shaking from head to toe.

 

“I know, baby, it’s okay.”

 

He lets her cry, because she needs to, and he gets it. If her parents hear her, they don’t come up, and for that she’s grateful. She’s not ready to deal with that side of this right now.

 

She gets scared then, weighed down once more by this new terminal fear of existing as she is. Her entire life just changed over one thing. And it should be a big deal, but not because of what it may entail. She doesn’t know how this will evolve over time.

 

She likes knowing things in advance. To prepare. Nothing could’ve prepared her for this.

 

“I can’t do this,” she weeps, tears continuing to pour down her cheeks. “I’m not strong like you.”

 

He makes this sad, wounded sound, but not because he’s insulted. He feels for her in a way nobody else currently can. Not even Janis. Realizing that makes Cady cry harder. Janis isn’t here for this. But Cady doesn’t really want her to be.

 

“Honey,” Damian murmurs into the back of her head, squeezing her small body as it trembles. “You don’t have to be strong like me. You’re already strong like you.”

 

“I don’t feel strong,” she replies, sick to her stomach instead. “How am I gonna tell Janis?”

 

“What do you mean?” he asks gently.

 

Cady can’t put into words how scared she is to come out to her own girlfriend, like there’s still a burden she doesn’t want to put on Janis. Like her being nonbinary is somehow going to make things weird for them, or hard on Janis, in a way Cady has trouble conceptualizing.

 

“I still just feel like there’s something wrong with me,” Cady whispers, shaking her head. “I don’t even know. I don’t wanna hurt her.”

 

“You’re not gonna hurt her, sweetheart, come here. Sit up.” He helps her sit and puts his arm around her as he has become so accustomed to doing, and she leans heavily against him, unable to hold herself up.

 

“Like I said, there’s nothing wrong with you,” Damian reminds her. “I know it feels that way. And you might feel that way for a long time. But what your brain makes you feel or think isn’t reality. You’re not broken, and you don’t need fixing. And Janis isn’t gonna love you any less, okay? She’ll be so happy, like I am. What do you think would change?”

 

“I don’t know,” Cady sniffles, as Damian gets her a much-needed tissue. “It’s like you’re the only one who gets it. But she won’t, because she’s not like us, and I hate—I hate feeling like I’m excluding her.”

 

“You’re not,” he assures. “Realizing you’re nonbinary isn’t a direct attack on Janis, Caddy. That has nothing to do with her. This is your thing, and it’s good. If she had a problem with it—and she won’t, because it’s Janis—then she wouldn’t be friends with either of us. But you’re not doing something bad by understanding yourself a little better, okay?”

 

Cady just feels so _guilty._ She knows Janis will be accepting, it just seems like a barrier.

 

“And you’re not a new person,” Damian says. “You’re still her Caddy. Mine, too. You’re not going to change as a human being.”

 

“I know.” Cady’s eyes are raw. She must look like the epitome of chaotic. “I just haven’t gone to her with any of this. I don’t wanna drift away from her.”

 

“Even if you have a little, it’s only temporary,” he points out. “And you’ll drift back to each other, once you explain and she understands. She has a kind heart, you know that. If she doesn’t get it, she’ll make the effort to. And she loves you too much to lose you. You guys will figure it out together, you’ve been through worse.”

 

She huffs a dry laugh, because that’s true. She leans on him again, saying, “Can you be there when I tell her? Or do you think that’d be weird?”

 

He’s thoughtful for a moment. “If you want me to be,” he responds. “I think it would go fine if it were just you two, and in my opinion, it should just be you two. But if you need me there, I’ll be there. And it doesn’t have to be today, either. Or tomorrow. You’ll know when.”

 

“I’d like to before school starts,” she mumbles. “So. Soon-ish.”

 

“Well, whenever you decide to do it, if you feel like you want me there, just ask.” He kisses the top of her head. “I love you. And I’m proud of you.”

 

“God, stop. I’m gonna start crying again,” she laughs. “I love you, too.”

 

Once he’s sure she’s okay, he goes home, wanting to give her some time to herself to come to terms with everything they talked about. Of course his number is still on standby if she needs him. Now all she has to do is work up the courage to tell Janis.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter. obligatory sappy note will be at the end.

It’s easier said than done. Several days pass and Cady even sees Janis during all of them, but not once does she allude to anything. With school right around the corner, she feels trapped.

 

But she’s feeling better, mentally and physically. Now there’s just a cloud of dread hanging over her, and while it sucks, it’s blessedly different.

 

She and Janis go back to Janis’s house after a frozen yogurt excursion, and it’s the first time Cady has set foot in Janis’s room in weeks. The usual thrill she gets approaching the sticker and poster-littered door—on both sides because Janis can’t help herself—is replaced by a surge of anxiety, and she hates it.

 

Janis knows there’s something she’s not telling her, but has been patient and never makes Cady feel obligated to bring it up. Cady knew she wouldn’t, but it’s sweet. She can get so nosy and demanding, wanting so badly to help the situation becomes about her, like Damian said.

 

“What’s wrong?” Janis asks, for Cady has been standing in the doorway for a solid two minutes while Janis takes off her boots and searches for a record to play. Janis has just realized Cady is not seductively sprawling onto her bed.

 

“Nothing,” Cady answers belatedly, going to sit on the edge, feeling awkward and out of place. Janis pouts in confusion but doesn’t press. She finally chooses a disk, then sits down beside Cady. She’s surprisingly not wearing fishnets today, her obscenely long legs on full bare display thanks to her shorts. Even now, Cady feels lightheaded.

 

Janis silently takes Cady’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and Cady puts her head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, watching the record spin around as it plays.

 

“For what?” Janis says, amused, but Cady knows she’s nervous.

 

“For how I’ve been acting,” Cady clarifies. Damian said she’d know when the time was right, and while there’s none left to wait for him to come over, Cady feels it. Her gut is telling her it’s now or never. No day but today.

 

She needs him, always, but maybe she can do this on her own.

 

“I just worry about you,” Janis murmurs, squeezing her hand. “I want to make everything okay.”

 

“I know.” Cady kisses her shoulder. “I’m feeling better now.”

 

“Well, good.” Janis still sounds dissatisfied, wanting to know what exactly has been going on. Cady has a stomach ache and it’s not from the amount of gummy worms she just consumed.

 

There’s a silence between them, the song filling the space around them. The words are there now, Cady just can’t get them out. It’s no longer a language she can’t speak, but rather is learning every day.

 

Now all she has to do is teach it to Janis, so they can learn it together.

 

“Um. I’m ready to talk about it now,” Cady confesses, taking a breath to steady the wave in her voice, and Janis looks down at her, so she looks up.

 

“Okay,” Janis says encouragingly. “Talk as long as you want. I’ll listen.”

 

Before proceeding, Cady puts her other hand on Janis’s face and brings their mouths together, just in case. In case of what, she isn’t sure. But it’s a good kiss. It gives her strength.

 

She has to stand while she talks, getting the urge to pace. She starts from the beginning, the day she organized the pictures on her computer, explaining how seeing her Plastic self made her feel and that’s why she’s not been herself. She talks about asking Damian about being trans and how he’s helped her realize she’s been suffering from gender dysphoria, and why. She’s crying by the time she manages to choke out the words “I’m nonbinary,” and Janis’s first instinct is to jump up and hug her.

 

“Oh, Caddy,” Janis murmurs, holding her close as Cady hides her face in her neck, willing God or the universe or whoever to not take this from her.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Cady chokes out. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first, I’m sorry—”

 

“Caddy, Caddy, shhh,” Janis attempts, sounding heartbroken and confused. “Don’t be sorry, please don’t be sorry.”

 

“I just didn’t know what to do,” Cady sobs. “I felt like—like you wouldn’t get it, and I didn’t want to—put this on you, he’s all I had, I’m sorry—”

 

Janis holds her as she cries, and Cady clings to her, apologizing over and over. Janis lets her, knowing she needs to get it out of her system, balancing her when she can barely stand.

 

Janis takes her to the window seat and Cady curls up in her lap, head against her chest. “I didn’t mean to ruin anything, I’m sorry.”

 

“You haven’t,” Janis reassures. “It’s okay, baby, don’t apologize.” She might not fully get it yet, but she doesn’t sound mad—how could she ever when she’s as good and kind to Cady as she is. Cady now feels double guilty for doubting her reaction.

 

“I just was scared,” she sniffs. “Everything has just sucked so bad and I’ve been so confused.”

 

“Shh, I know.” Janis kisses her hair. “I know. I don’t blame you.”

 

“You’re not mad?” Cady tilts her head back, no longer crying but ready to continue at any given moment. “At either of us?”

 

“Why would I be mad?” Janis asks incredulously, but gently. “Of course not. I’m glad he could help you figure it out. And I’m really proud of you.”

 

There’s a catch in her voice, but Cady can’t tell if it’s from emotion or something else. But she’s tired of overthinking and being weighed down by anxiety and negative thoughts. Janis is proud of her, she’s happy for her, and that’s all that matters right now.

 

“What else should I know?” Janis asks then, running her fingers through Cady’s hair.

 

Cady explains the pronouns thing (what she’s deemed it in her head), and Janis is fully on board. Then Cady feels obligated to tell her, “I’m not going to change. I promise I’m still me.”

 

Janis runs a fingertip down the bridge of Cady’s nose. “I know, love.”

 

Cady kisses the underside of her jaw. “I missed you so much.”

 

Janis knows what she means, and squeezes her affectionately. “Hm. I missed you, too. Are you gonna be okay?”

 

Cady nods, sighing, and feels it in her whole body. “Yeah. I think now I will be.”

 

* * *

 

“The last day of summer,” Damian says mournfully, pouring a can of fizzy orange soda over the ice in his overtly fancy glass. “Cheers.”

 

Janis and Cady bump their cans to his glass, and they all take a sip.

 

It’s September, and school starts tomorrow—on a Wednesday, as fate would have it. Cady isn’t going to wear pink, though.

 

She got a haircut the other day. Nothing too drastic, but her caramel curls reach her chin now, and Janis has been dying over the cuteness for days. She also went shopping and got some new shirts, things she felt good in. She’s not changing, just expanding what she has.

 

The more she thinks of herself as nonbinary, the more right it feels, and she feels a flutter of joy and validation whenever Janis or Damian refer to her as “they” every now and then. She felt confident enough to tell her parents, who don’t know much about this sort of thing but made the effort to understand when she explained it. Her mom even said it wasn’t surprising, and from a scientific point of view it makes sense.

 

Cady isn’t ready for everyone to know, but the most important people do, including herself. She might tell Gretchen and Karen eventually. But for right now she likes it being a semi-secret as she still figures it out. Damian and Janis are right there with her.

 

She knows this will be an ongoing challenge, but at least she’s not alone. And her senior year is a clean slate for everybody. A new, better Cady than last year. She’s looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for your love and support for this little story! i hope whoever needed it found comfort in cady’s journey. i love all my fellow trans and nonbinary friends so much. thank you for reading and enjoying ♡


End file.
